


An Old Argument

by Fuinixe



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Schmoop, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:01:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27494626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fuinixe/pseuds/Fuinixe
Summary: "Sometimes it hurts to look at Nicky."Literally just pure schmoop that came to me while I was trawling Pinterest for Joe/Nicky fanart.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 36
Kudos: 221





	An Old Argument

Sometimes it hurts to look at Nicky.

It’s not at all like the hurt of a blade or a bullet, but it’s a hurt nonetheless. A sweet ache, deep in his chest. It feels a little like being overwhelmed and a lot like gratitude, like a gift that he can never pay back. Joe has tried, many times, to imagine a man more beautiful than Nicky, but any time he tries to picture this imaginary man, it always just looks like...Nicky. The grandeur and shine and unrelenting beauty of Nicky.

He tells him this.

“Nicolò, habibi...” he murmurs from the bed, watching Nicky comb his hair in the mirror, the morning’s rays catching little glints of chestnut brown so that it looks spun through with gold. Nicky doesn’t answer, but immediately comes to sit down on the bed next to him, a knee propped up, taking Joe’s hand where it rests on the pillow. Nicky looks down at him indulgently and waits for Joe to finish his thought.

“Nicolò, have I ever told you?” Joe’s voice is sleep-sticky in his throat, and he clears it. The corners of Nicky’s mouth curl up in a smile. This is the way many, many of their conversations begin, especially the conversations that they have over and over. “Have I ever told you that you are the most beautiful man in the world?”

“You may have made this claim, once or twice.” Nicky reaches down and brushes a curl off of Joe’s forehead and out of his eyes.

Joe feels a sudden urge to argue his case, to impress upon Nicky how very serious he is, and he hauls himself up into a sitting position, struggling out from the piles of covers, and takes Nicky’s hand back in both of his. 

“I am serious, Nicky. Your hair is silk, soft and fine and luscious. The planes of your face deserve to be replicated in marble and a statue stood in every plaza in the world.”

“Andy would not like that, think how easily I could be recognized,” Nicky jokes. Joe presses on.

“I love your beautiful nose. It is elegant and regal and I love how it presses against me every time we kiss. Your mole, the perfect accent to your beauty. It is adorable, it is kissable, I could kiss it every hour of every day, for the next thousand years, and never tire of kissing it. Your smile, Nicky. Sometimes I see your smile and it hurts to look at it. It overwhelms me. You shine so brightly. And your eyes...” Joe pauses to swallow. Nicky strokes the knuckles of Joe’s hand under his fingertips. “When we first met, I thought you a sorcerer, your eyes so unearthly I thought only magic could have wrought them. When I can walk along the beach and collect the white shells, I look inside, where they’re iridescent. Your eyes are the color of the brightest shining bands, where they catch the light, and that beauty makes it so I never forget how God left good things in this world, so that we might not despair. Your eyes are the color of the sky over the sea as dawn is breaking, the color of hope. I wish everyone could have a taste of the hope I feel every time I look into your eyes. This world would be the better for it.” Joe’s voice chokes up. 

“Oh, my love,” Nicky murmurs, and catches the back of Joe’s neck with his free hand, bringing him closer to rub his nose against Joe's nose and cheeks. “My love, my darling.” Nicky kisses away a stray trail of moisture that has escaped from one of Joe’s eyes, and places soft, deliberate kisses on each of Joe’s eyelids, alternating back and forth. 

“Oh, Nicky – how could I – I forgot your lips, the pure rapture they deliver –” Nicky captures Joe’s mouth with his and kisses him warmly, passionately, soft sounds rumbling out of Joe's throat. Joe’s arms wrap around Nicky securely and they grasp each other, scooting closer, Nicky’s hand on Joe’s neck kneading deeply and sending pulses of pleasure and warmth up his scalp and down to his toes. Nicky pulls back too soon. 

“Il dolcissimo amore mio, I’m sorry to say this, but I bear bad news. You are wrong.” Nicky’s thumb strokes up the edge of Joe’s beard, near the crinkles of his cheeks, where Joe is trying and failing to muster a convincing scowl. “I cannot be the most beautiful man in the world, because I am looking at him right now.”

**Author's Note:**

> This argument brought to you by similar arguments I have with my wife.
> 
> habibi : "beloved"  
> Il dolcissimo amore mio : "my sweetest love"
> 
> I haven't posted fic in several years, so...yay Joe and Nicky for getting me out of my rut? I'M TOTALLY OBSESSED, YOU GUYS.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [tale as old as time (true as it can be)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28187604) by [writerblender](https://archiveofourown.org/users/writerblender/pseuds/writerblender)




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